


locked away inside

by sultrygoblin



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cult Survivor, F/M, Feelings, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot -  i don’t want to swim the ocean. i don’t want to fight the tide. i don’t want to swim forever. when it’s cold i’d like to die
Relationships: Jack Hodgins/Reader
Kudos: 12





	locked away inside

**Author's Note:**

> au. i do what i want. also i find as I get older im more and more into him..sorry for lack of smut. I’ll be back on it soon.

You were bent over the microscope and as hard as you were trying to seem normal, he knew better. You moved your weight from one battered sneaker to the other. You hadn’t stopped playing with your sleeves as he’d explained about the larvae casing you were now inspecting with far too much interest. Because they knew, _they all knew_ , and that made you incredibly uncomfortable. Anytime someone tried to pry your skin back and figure you out, you had always pushed back. Hard. Jack knew that feeling all too well. And now it was spread out, your entire life the center of an investigation that might have avoided being about you. If they had survived, if any of them had survived that decade ago.

“Stop it!’ the words harsher than he meant and causing the both of you to jump, “I mean,” he sighs, leaning against the corner of the table, only realizing how close he really was when you’d pulled your eyes from the machine, “I get pretending for them, I do. But you don’t have to do that for me.”

“I’m not,” you replied but it’s only half true, he knows you well enough to know that, “If,” you steadied your breath that attempted to shake, “If I start crying, I don’t think I’ll stop.”

“That’s alright,” his voice not quite a laugh but denoting some kind of amusement at your worry, “If you can’t cry in front of me who can you cry in front of?”

“Of course they were-” the words come with stacatto breathing, hot tears burn your eyes, “Obviously, right?” trying to laugh but it just makes the tears finally fall, “God, Jack, I knew them, I knew all those people,” the dam had finally burst.

3 days. It had taken him 3 days to finally get you to open up and he knows you’ll be better for it. Even if watching you fall to pieces is breaking his heart. There’s no thought, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. His neck warm and sticky with your tears, he ignores it, choosing to rub comforting circles in your back with one hand and the other held you tight to him. He just let’s you cry in that cramped room, surrounded by metal shelves and boxes of bugs. No one can see you there, no one will find you there, and that makes it all okay. At least for now. At least with him. Like so many of these moments it ends far too soon.

You pull out of his arms, wiping your eyes with the back of your wrist, “I should,” you sniffle, avoiding eye contact, “Clean up,” your voice disappearing as you hurried out of the room towards the ladies room.

Which had put you straight in the path of Cam, who knew better than to ask if you were alright. Instead her eyes went to Hodgins as she stepped into the room. His darkened collar mixed with the tissue he was working at his neck made it more than abundantly clear what had happened in the room. And how private it had been.

{}

You never get your closure. Every day you seem angrier and sadder at the same time. Booth keeps promising you it will happen, extradition just isn’t an easy process. Not to mention he has a lot of stolen money. This time is different. You don’t feign understanding or seethe in silence. You don’t even roll your eyes and change the topic. Jack jumps and turns at the sound of your hands slamming on the table.

“Stop lying to me!” It’s clear you don’t intend for it to come out as a loud snarl but now that you’re here you’ve decided not to turn back, “Stop it! He’s getting away with it. Again!”

Booth opens his mouth which is his moment to intervene, “Don’t, man,” shaking his head, “Just don’t,” slipping his arm around your shoulders, “It’s been a long day, let’s get you home.”

He feels you deflate in his arms, your knees wobble, briefly wondering if this is the first time you’ve really let yourself feel it since those weeks- almost two months ago, in that room. The way you point your eyes in your lap as he drives you home in silence drives the point home. You grip the handle and the lock click, your surprise outweighs everything else and he finally sees your glassy eyes.

“You got any coffee up there,” he asks with that smile he knows you can’t resist, “It’s a long drive back to the estate.”

He wishes he didn’t have to make you giggle. That it could happen naturally like before. But that isn’t a luxury your mind has afforded you since this all started. He’ll take what he can get, it’s better than nothing at all. Only when you nod is there a second click.

It isn’t the first time he’s been in your apartment but it fills much more personal now. The couch is less so that than a nest, he doesn’t comment on the empty bottle of whiskey next to it but you know he sees it. How could he not?

“I assume you don’t really want coffee,” he winks and points as you both make your way to the cluttered cushions, he helps you tidy it up enough for the both of you to sit, “I’m such a mess…” your voice begins to shake.

“No one expects you to have together except for you,” unable to stop the incredulous time, making up for it by wrapping his arm around your shoulders once more, “Especially me.”

You sniffle, wiping your eyes, doing exactly what he’s all but accused you of doing at this point, “What is this, Jack?”

He shrugs, “I’m just taking care of the woman I love,” voice even as ever, making you wonder if you’d even heard him right, “And you can’t change that, baby,” pulling you a bit closer and pressing a kiss to your temple, “Now where’s this bed you’ve been bragging about?”

You hadn’t quite realized how bad it had gotten. Not until he’s forced you to go through your whole nighttime routine like you used to. Before… For the first time in a long time, climbing into bed, you felt kind of like your old self. You knew you’d never be her completely again but it felt good. You don’t expect.to grab his hand.

“Can you stay?” it doesn’t feel as strange as you had expected it to, “Nightmares.”

He knows them well. So he slips off his shoes and lays on his back over the blankets, refusing to be presumptuous. He’d already dared, against everyone’s urgings, to push just a bit far, he’d be an idiot to try anything else. Especially when he’d managed to stumble into the best-case scenario of it all. You hadn’t freaked out. More importantly, you had asked him to stay. Like every time before, that was enough.

{}

You wake up warm, with a safe feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. Sleep still has you, it feels good, something bad lurks beyond the edges and you want to avoid it for as.long as possible. It’s arms around you, it’s familiar cologne, and if you weren’t so desperate to fall back asleep you might’ve thought you still were.

“Jack?” he’d stayed the night and why was trying to creep its way in. Arms tightened, a groggy hum of affirmation came from so close, “Kiss me before I remember why I’m sad.”

It’s one of those ridiculous sentences that everyone else snorts at or, worse, asks for elaboration. But he knows you, far better than you probably realize. It makes perfect sense to him. It’s your response to his passive confession. A promise. To try, to let him in, nothing more than those things. Nothing more than he’s ever asked of you.

It’s not how he imagined your first kiss but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Pressing his lips to your own, feeling you press back as.best as you can. But you’re tired and you know something bad is fast approaching. He tries his best to keep it at bay. Moving his lips against yours. Soft. Open mouthed. The way he knew you liked, if only because of a drinking game he refuses to admit partaking in. He wants it to last longer than it does but slumber only clings for so long. Your lips stop, you slowly pull away, already tears are beginning to roll down your cheeks.

“I’m gonna text Cam, alright? Let her know we’ll be a little late,” one arm disappearing to grab his phone from the nightstand, the other pulling you closer, if possible, “We’ll take the morning. Take time,” swiping upwards and tapping to his messages, “Take care of you.”

He feels you sniffle, nod, fingers curling in his wrinkled shirt, “Thank you, Jack.”

“Never thank me for loving you, baby.”


End file.
